So I was just cruisin' around and realized that I need to get to Vegas.

I haven't been since September.

I'm in withdrawal. Serious withdrawal.

Yes, we're hitting the Mayan in two weeks. Yes, we'll be doing absolutley nothing but laying on the beach, drinking and eating (and maybe, just maybe, making babies) (and yes, I mean bab-ies. We're going for twins) (and I still don't know why everyone thinks we're nuts for wanting twins. Just because I'll be 38 by the time I give birth - if we get pregnant right away - if not, I'll be older.... Just because I'm high-risk already (who decides the "high-risk" factor anyways? They should be fired for putting so much FEAR in people. Gheesh. Just because it's like a 3-ring circus when you're trying to go anywhere with twins.... doesn't mean we're nuts for wanting them. It just means we're over-achievers.)

(Or nuts.)

Yes, we'll come home relaxed and ready to tackle the world. Yes, we'll come home speaking Spanish again (except in January we were speaking a mix of Spanish and French when we got back from the Dominican).

But we'll be tanned and relaxed!

But Vegas. Oh, my favourite city in the world. Oh, how I miss you.

Perhaps in May. Unless I'm pregnant. The only place left on God's Green Earth where you can smoke and drink in public. And there's a two-drink-minimum for a mammogram.

Oh how I love that town.

Urs.